Once Upon A Time
by PhantomObsesser
Summary: Once upon a time I abused this saying.o.o Woo..I have know clue where I'm going with this, but I am uncharacteristically proud to say that it is COMPLETE.
1. Once Upon A Time

Disclaimer: I do not own anything from Johnny the Homicidal Maniac. I own Christine though, no one else wants her anyways..

Once upon a time, Johnny had a friend.

A real friend. A strange thought but it's true. Her name was Christine, she is now but a long forgotten memory.

Once upon a time, Christine would visit Johnny. They were always talking about something or another. Sometimes having small conflicts on who was right. It was never anything bad though.

Christine would try her hardest to make him smile. Trying new tactics to make him happy. It hardly ever worked, but when it did, it was worth all the effort.

Once upon a time, Christine would sneak out of her house to come talk to Johnny. He would hear someone knocking on his window and know immediately it was her. Her greeting was always the same: "Hey Johnny, nice night. Please don't push me out the window." They would stay up all night playing some kind of board game she had brought or watch TV. The most common game was with a Ouija board. Johnny didn't really believe it was paranormal. But Christine always insisted that there was something about the game that wasn't meant for mortals.

Christine was never able to look Johnny in the eyes and talk to him for the whole conversation. She always seemed distracted. Sometimes she would talk at him, not to him. Johnny didn't mind too much.

Once upon a time, Christine would sing for Johnny. Each time it was a different song. Sometimes in French or Italian. When he asked her what the songs meant, she would shrug and tell him she wasn't sure. She would tell him that she just liked the sound of it.

Once upon a time, Christine would invite Johnny to go places with her. On an occasion they would go to her house. It was only in the garage where she kept her guitar. He never actually saw her room. She told Johnny that she had cats. Johnny couldn't be around cats.

He was content with listening to her practice her guitar or singing. Christine never got good grades. She quoted a movie once: 'Only love and music are forever.' Johnny didn't quite agree with the love part. Christine then went on to say that she was perfectly capable of living in the "real world" even though her grades weren't that great.

Once upon a time, Christine made a bet with Johnny. If he won she would put away her cats and let him see her room. If she won he had to sing for her.

She won. Johnny didn't want to sing. He hadn't tried before and didn't want to make a fool of himself. Johnny protested but eventually gave in, a bet was a bet. Johnny sang. He had shut his eyes not wanting to see the look on her face. He warily opened his eyes to see Christine dancing around the room.

Once upon a time, Christine would cuss a lot when angry enough. Johnny would laugh when she was mad at something stupid. When she heard him laugh she would usually stop and smile. It was rare to see him amused.

Once upon a time, Johnny had a friend.

Once upon a time, this friend died.

Christine had angered the wrong person. At her funeral not many people were there. Her mom and dad had the nerve to fight at their own daughter's funeral. Johnny was not happy about that. They had been seperated sense Christine was two, but they had no right to be so disrespectful. He was crying over her casket. Johnny knew that Christine hated it when he cried, but for some reason he couldn't stop.

Once upon a time, someone mocked Johnny for visiting Christine's grave.

Once upon a time, Johnny killed his first victim. And he liked it. Not only did he get vengeance, but he could've sworn he heard Christine snickering.

Christine is a long forgotten memory of Johnny's past. They were sixteen at the time. Now everything's changed. Johnny doesn't remember her at all. But for some reason he is always compelled to visit Squee by knocking on his window. Johnny thought this was a bit strange but then shrugged it off. Time does not exist for Johnny anymore. By the looks of it, he guesses he's about twenty-three.

Johnny sits on his couch and writes in his diary when he hears a knocking sound.

"Hey Johnny. Nice night. Please don't push me out the window."

Johnny dropped his pencil and looked up to see a transparent girl leaning against the TV.

"Christine!" She disappeared.

Yeah...I liked it. I don't know about you people though. Christine's back. Review if you want another chapter. If not I'll continue writing for myself until I find something I like o0.


	2. Dance With Me

Disclaimer: I only own Christine, no one else wants her..

Dance with me, Cristine wasn't asking. She always wanted Johnny to help her practice with theballet she taught herself.

Dance with me. It was a request Johnny would always turn down. No matter how much she begged or bribed.

Dance with me. Sometimes to a fast rock song or a slow classical one, Johnny never agreed. Christine would be upset.

Dance with me. Christine would dance by herself. It looked tempting to join her. The constant movement. Music was her life. Johnny sometimes wondered what it was like to dance.

Dance with me. Christine said it was one of the best feelings in the world. She said the music carries you away, and you finally feel free.

Dance with me. How he wished to hear her say that once more.

Dance with me. Christine's voice rang in Johnny's ears as if she had just said it. As if she were alive and well.

Dance with me. Johnny wished he would've taken her up on the offer.

"Dance with me," Johnny's voice filled the empty room. There was no reply.

Johnny swayed to the music of the radio alone. He was too late.

I hope it's okay. I know it's short but I need more inspiration damnit! Oh well. Review if you want another chapter.


	3. Fight With Me

Disclaimer: I only own Christine, no one else wants her..

Fight with me. Johnny had looked at Christine like she was mad when she blurted that out all those years ago. She probably was.

Fight with me. He didn't understand why Christine would request such a thing. She was persistent in getting what she wanted. Christine wasn't going to back down from this either.

"Fighting with you is... Fun isn't the right word.. Informing, maybe..Yes, informing. It helps me understand your view point and where you stand on certain things," Then Christine would look strait at him, "Fight with me."

Johnny had been remembering little fragments of his past. It was more frustrating than anything. He didn't have the whole story. He hated not knowing. Johnny didn't want to fight with her. That would get way out of hand. He might kill her to soon. That is, if she weren't already dead.

Fight with me. He couldn't remember what Christine looked like. Johnny could see her in his mind, but he couldn't remember what she looked or sounded like.

Fight with me. Johnny felt the need to repeat those words, but he repressed it.

Fight with me. When Johnny closed his eyes he could see dark, almost black, eyes staring back at him.

"Why do you haunt me?" Johnny muttered about the girl. He could've sworn he heard someone say, "Don'tcha' miss me?" The voice had no sound but it wasn't a whisper.

**Fight with me. **The voice was now very frustrated. She wanted a fight. Apparently Christine hated not knowing too.

'No,' Johnny was getting very distressed, 'No. Please stop. No.'

"**Fight with me!**" Those eyes were back.

Johnny shot upright on the couch. He hugged his knees to his chest and berried a hand in his hair.

"I...hate...**SLEEP!**" Why had that scared him so much? Johnny shivered, when did it get so cold? He suddenly didn't feel so alone. There was something comforting about the solitude. Soon Johnny was lulled back into dreaded sleep by a soft singing of ' Ill Muto'. Just before slipping into darkness, he heard someone say, "I'm sorry."

Yes? No? Maybe so? Should I just go pummel myself with bricks? You decide. Review if you want another chapter. It's up to you entirely.

I remain your humble and obedient servant,  
PhantomObsesser


	4. Alone

Disclaimer: I only own Christine.. no one else wants her..

Johnny sat in the rain. Waiting. For what, he wasn't sure. What was left of his hair stuck to his head. No one was passing by, it seemed as if he was the only life left. The feeling of being alone was far to common. A Brain Freezy or a fizz-wiz sounded good right about now.

Alone. It was like some sick catch phrase.

Alone. Why him? What had he done?

Alone. How had his life gotten so out of control?

Alone. Was it his life anymore?

Alone. No of course not. It never was.

Alone. How he hated that word.

Alone. Shut up.

Alone. ' I said shut up.'

Alone. ' Shut up damnit! '

Alone. ' SHUT UP! '

Alone. ' SHUT UP DAMNIT! '

"Sir! Sir! Are you okay!" Johnny opened his eyes to see a girl, about eleven years of age leaning over him. Her hair was spiked up like antenna at least six inches off her head. But it wasn't her hair that caught his attention, it was her eyes, those incredibly dark wide eyes behind largesilver glasses.

"Yes, I'm fine."

"You didn't look fine," The girl said unconvinced. She adjusted her black umbrella to protect them from the rain better, "You just collapsed, and you were screaming!"

All of the color left Johnny's sickly yellow face, "What did I say?"

"I couldn't tell," Her voice was quiet, "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yes, I'll be fine," Johnny recoiled against the wall when she held out her hand for him. He stood up still pressed against the wall. The girl's hand soon found it's way back at her side.

"Alright. Well, see ya around maybe," She gave a short wave and a smile, then headed over to a black haired boy using a coat as a shield from the rain. She held the umbrella over their heads and grabbed his hand. As they walked off Johnny heard the boy ask: "What did he say Christine?"

You like? No? I kinda liked the idea of Johnny meeting himself and Christine, I mean, he died too!... I like reincarnation...


	5. I Hate You

Disclaimer: I only own Christine, no one else wants her.. This is written as a flashback type thing... so... Read. I command you! Or don't, it's up to you.

_You... You **love** him don't you? _

No. No I don't. Love is a figment of the imagination...Besides, boys have cooties.

Then why are you sitting next to him, giving him sympathetic looks, nodding your head as he tells you of his problems?

Because I'm his friend. Now shut up, I'm trying to listen.

Friendship is a form of love, is it not?

...Touché..

Then you do love him.

You mean the kind of emotions that develop until a couple is married. I love him like a brother. It is two completely different things... Weren't there two of you?

Yes. Aw look, you're talking just like him.

No i'm not.

You're right, he talks like you.

No he doesn't.

Just listen to how he's talking. Pausing in certain places, he's even starting to pronounce words like you!

People pick these things up. It's just the human nature, a sub-conscious adjustment.

True, but isn't it funny that he picked up on **your **particular speech pattern?

No, it's only logical that it would be my speech pattern because he's not around people often. Why are you mocking him? Can't you at least tolerate him? Just for a while?

And now you're standing up for him!

Hey, it's not like he can hear you.

Someone's a little testy today..

You won't shut up!

Fine, leave me alone and talk to your little boyfriend.

He's not my boyfriend you annoying ass tick!

Rudeness...

I'm rude? **I'm rude!** **You're **the one that keeps making all of the accusations! I have never been so insu-

He's looking at you.

Huh?

"Christine, are you there?" Johnny waved a hand in front of Christine's face.

"Huh? Oh yeah, um.. I'm sorry, I missed that last part," Christine shifted uncomfortably on the bed where the two sat.

"I asked if you were going to be in any plays soon," Christine blinked.

_Wasn't he just complaining a little while ago? _

Yeah. I wonder if when you get into spats he'll change the subject like that.

If I could see you, I'd hit you.

"Christine," Johnny was getting annoyed.

"Yes," Christine said quickly, "They still need some more volunteers though."

Johnny's eyes widened, "Christine. No."

"I mean, 'cause it would really be a shame for the whole thing to go to waste. But if no one will volunteer..."

"Christine, I'm not going to do it."

"Do what? I was simply stating that if we don't get more actors soon, the play would be canceled. And we all worked so hard on it too.."

Johnny sighed, "I hate you."

Christine grinned, "Are you sure I'm not aloud to hug you?"

"Touch me and die."

_It's obvious that you must love him in some sort of way. Let's list them all off shall we? You adore his mind, you are always trying to get him to talk so you can hear his voice, not to mention the whole bet where you made him sing, you keep trying to make him happy, you're even trying to find loopholes in his rules so you can have some sort of physical contact! You, my poor deluded friend, are in love. _

Now let's counter that attack with one of my own shall we? Johnny is a very intelligent person and I respect, not adore, his mind. I try to get him to talk because it's my nature, I'm talkative. And for your information I was curious as to how much his voice would change when singing. I try to keep him happy because I don't like to see people I care about, not love in this case, upset. You're whole physical contact statement is entirely off. I'm grateful. He's going to be helping us save the musical I'm going to be in.

Madam, those are horrible excuses.

Not to me, and last time I checked you both were part of me... Where'd you come from!

... You should know if we're part of you.

Oh come on! How juvenile can you get! What am I? You're keeper?

... Yes..

"Christine!" Johnny was gripping onto Christine's shoulders and shaking her. She had completely zoned out on him, her righteye was twitching along with her hands.

Christine blinked, confused, "Ow," she said irritably. Johnny let go of her arms. Christine rolled up her sleeves. Where Johnny had dug his nails into her arms, little drops of blood formed. Christine pulled her sleeve back over her arm.

"I'm sorry Johnny, but... I think I'll come back tomorrow. I just remembered something that had escaped my memory. Goodbye."

Before Johnny had any time to ask questions, Christine was out the window and running home.

Christine awoke the next morning to... silence. That's odd. She slowly sat up then cracked her neck, back, and fingers, 'Nasty habit.'

Christine didn't hate sleep, she hated waking up. She hated grogginess and having to crack various parts of her body.

_What? No insults? I'm still angry and I'd love to argue! _

Silence.

"Damn cowards," she muttered. Christine got dressed in her usual attire and went downstairs. No one was up yet... they wouldn't miss her much.

"Mom! I'm going out!" She shouted. Christine knew her mother wouldn't wake up that easy, but now she had an excuse.

It was morning so she decided to knock instead of go threw the window. A fairly tall, black haired woman answered.

"Hello Mrs.C! Is Johnny here?" Stupid question. The woman smiled nervously.

"Yes but um.. He's not in the best of moods," She said softly. Christine paled, this was _not _good.

"Well can I still see him?" She was trying to keep herself from looking panicked, and failing miserably.

The woman stepped aside, "Well I suppose..."

"Thanks!" She ran up the stairs and flung open Johnny's door to see destruction. He had torn the place apart. Knocking over mirrors and dressers, anything he could've ever gotten his hands on, was destroyed.

Christine shut the door after her and looked about the room, "Johnny?" she called softly. Christine herself, was turning things over looking for him. Johnny was so thin he could probably fit anywhere! She pulled his mattress over from it's upright position.

Johnny had been using it as a make-shift fort. He was curled up in a ball, staring out into space. His normally pale face was flushed and tear streaked. She kneeled down behind him and wrapped her arms loosely around his shoulders. Christine leaned against his back. Johnny didn't even notice her presence.

"What's going on?" Christine asked half to herself and half to him. Faintly she heard in the back of her mind:

_If you couldn't love him before, let's see how well off you are when he's insane. _

Christine protectively tightened her grip on the now sobbing person in front of her, as if she could save him like this.

All she could think of was:  
_I hate you Mr. Eff. I hate you PhsychoDoughboy. _

Yeah... voices going from one person to the other... It could happen! In my strange world at least. Review if you want another chapter!


	6. I Remember Her Faintly

Disclaimer: I only own Christine. No one else wants her... I'm going to go and put my life on the line with this one...

I remember her faintly. She's just a blurry image. When my mind wanders off and I see her, it looks as if I need glasses. It looks like I'm staring at her through water.

I remember her faintly. I've had her pushed to the back of my thoughts lately. She was a subject that went untouched until now. I don't know what brought it up, but something made me think about her. Would she be alive now? If that sad excuse for a human being hadn't shot her, would I have killed off the only person I was close to? It was a long time ago. I have changed drastically and for the worse.

I remember her faintly. Maybe she could've saved me. Do you here that Christine? YOU COULD HAVE SAVED ME AND YOU LEFT! YOU LEFT LIKE ALL THE OTHERS! I'll never forgive you for this...

I remember her faintly. It wasn't all her fault, I suppose. She didn't ask to be shot. She actually seemed quite content with her life. But she did leave. I'll never forgive her for that.

I remember her faintly. Look at me now. I'm brooding and killing at the same time. I'm multitasking just like you said I always did. I didn't understand what you meant until now. I can be doing something and thinking something completely different at the same time. I wonder what you'd say if you saw me now. Covered in blood. Standing over a corpse. Would you ask what happened and be nonchalant? Would you ask why I didn't save a person for you to kill? Or would you scream and run away like all of the others. If you did come back, which I highly doubt would happen, I wouldn't let you get away again. You're my friend. Mine.

I remember her faintly. I remember walking into her house for the first time. I don't remember what it looked like. I just knew I was in there. I went up into her room and was surprised for some reason. Oh great, now that's going to get to me until I remember.

I remember her faintly. I remember picking something up. It was red... A book! That was it. It was a little red diary with a rose on the front. There wasn't a lock on it, just a clasp. I took that book with me and never opened it. I put it somewhere and planned to open it when I was ready. But I had forgotten where I put the damned thing.

I remember her faintly. I think I know where I put it!

I remember her faintly. This is amazing! I actually know where I put that book.

I remember her faintly. I found it. I can't bring myself to open it though. I feel that if I do, everything will be destroyed. No. That's stupid. Nothing will be ruined.

I remember her faintly. Here it goes.

_Dear Diary,  
Johnny gave me this diary. He keeps insisting that I call him 'Nny, but I've gotten into the habit of saying Johnny. Odd how he has appeared three times in the first few sentences, isn't it? He's been on my mind a lot lately. I can't seem to figure out why. The voices suggest love. I know that can't be it. Mother tells me not to give the voices names and they'll go away. So I won't call her mom.  
Oh, how rude of me. I've forgotten to introduce myself. I am Christine.  
I've completely gone off topic. Do you see why it's hard for me to hold a conversation? I wonder if Johnny will find this and read it. I might have to kick him in the shin. Just kidding. God, where's your sense of humor?  
Maybe it is love. Maybe I should go scrub my brain with steel wool for even thinking that. Love? Yes. No. Yes. No... Yo... That's my answer to you all. Yo. The mix between yes and no without the maybe. Is it normal to confuse yourself? What do I care? I don't seem to reach the standard for normal. Not my problem. Or maybe it is.  
I'm hungry.  
Until next time, Christine. _

I remember her faintly. Every page is filled with confusion. Teenage hormones. No. I don't think so at least.

I remember her faintly. The irony of it all is bitter. The one person who cared for me (maybe even loved me, who knows?) is dead.

I remember her faintly. Fuck. I hate that. When you finally realize something and it's gone. The opportunity slips right through your fingers.

I remember her faintly. Then there's the whole self-loathing part. Where you know you could've done something to prevent it.

I remember her faintly. Strange how I'm reading her diary and writing in mine at the same time, isn't it?

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Please. Don't kill me. If you do happen to want more, which I doubt but lets just say; If you do want more or have any questions (I tend to confuse people.) review!


	7. Dear Dieary

Disclaimer: I only own Christine, no one wants her anyways.. To anyone who may be reading this, I am sorry to say that this is my last chapter of Once Upon A Time. Let the fun begin and let it end.  
"v"v"v"  
Dear Die-ary,

I saw her today, I am sure of it. I was passing by that vile little cafe (when they rebuilt it they, put in some funny looking booth seats) and there she was sitting right by the window. She hadn't aged a day. But I could tell it was her. Every detail exactly the same as before. I'll be damned if it wasn't her. An she saw me; her face turned bright red and she went back to whatever it was that she was drinking. Her lack of action told me that she didn't remember who I was.

Blissfully oblivious, little, Christine. Still sixteen even seven years later. I wonder what she would think if she knew me now. Reincarnation. Now there's a thought. But I won't rule that out as a possibility.

I should go talk with her. Maybe she'll remember me? It would be... Interesting, to have a friend again. Who knows, maybe I can keep her alive to see her eight-teen th birthday. I won't let history repeat itself. She is not getting away from me that easily again.

She's back, and she's mine.

"v"v"v"

Well...that's it. Maybe I'll be back to write an alternate ending. Who knows? Hope you enjoyed my little story. Please review.. or don't. Meh.  
4:02 A.M.


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